


them good old boys were drinkin' whisky and rye

by bovines (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Riding, This is really dumb, not really it's literally like a 50 word paragraph that mentions sex, so much teeth-rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-04
Updated: 2014-02-04
Packaged: 2018-01-11 03:36:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1168194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/bovines
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It is, but that’s what it’s about. Buddy Holly and the other two died today. So it’s a song about the day the music died.”</p><p>Louis blinks. It’s really much too early for this. “That’s interesting.” </p><p>“Isn’t it?” Harry’s smile is endless. “Anyways, I’m going to the gym. See you!” Harry is scrambling to their bedroom again. Louis’ mug sloshes coffee onto their carpet. It joins a similar stain from two weeks ago, when Harry had discovered that the ‘Puppy Bowl’ was a thing. </p><p>or; Harry is endearing and Louis loves him so, so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	them good old boys were drinkin' whisky and rye

**Author's Note:**

> this took an hour and half and it will probably make you wince
> 
> i apologize in advance 
> 
>  
> 
> title from 'American Pie by Don McLean

Harry bounds into the living room. Louis’ mug, resting on the edge of the coffee table, wobbles precariously. Harry flops on the couch, immediately curling against Louis’ side and elbowing his hip. Louis sighs, but puts down the crossword. He’s stuck on a five-letter word for ‘a ridiculous person’.

“It’s the day the music died, Lou.” Harry says into his sweater.

“What?”

“The day the music died.”

Louis pauses. The clock reads ten forty-five in the morning and it’s much too early for this. “As in the song?”

“Yeah, Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and that other one. I can’t remember his name.”

“I thought it was a Don McLean song—‘’

“It is, but that’s what it’s about. Buddy Holly and the other two died today. So it’s a song about the day the music died.”

Louis blinks. It’s _really_ much too early for this. “That’s interesting.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry’s smile is endless. “Anyways, I’m going to the gym. See you!” Harry is scrambling to their bedroom again. Louis’ mug sloshes coffee onto their carpet. It joins a similar stain from two weeks ago, when Harry had discovered that the ‘Puppy Bowl’ was a thing.

Louis looks to his crossword again.

A five-letter word for ‘a ridiculous person’.

It’s not the correct answer, but he fills it in anyways.

 

 

That’s the thing, though. Louis is hopelessly endeared. Harry is five o’clock in the morning with the sun painting the clouds. Harry is the puckered lips after sucking on a lemon and the tears after chopping an onion. Harry is the coffee stains on the carpet and the bruises on Louis’ neck and everything else in between. Even at sixteen, with limbs like tree branches and curls like the loops on a rollercoaster, Louis knew he was finished.

Once, after their first performance on X-Factor, Harry had crawled into Louis’ bunk smelling like toothpaste and adrenaline.

“Do you think Simon dyes his hair?”

Louis groans, rolling over so his back is pressed against Harry’s chest. It was possibly the first time that Louis had considered spending all his nights with Harry. It was certainly not the last.

“He has grey hairs, Harry. I’m pretty sure it’s natural.”

Harry only hums, squirming closer to Louis and sighing deeply. His breath tickles the skin on his neck and Louis is already sweating but he would never complain.

 

 

A year later, when he and Harry are sat on the couch in their own flat and a commercial airs for men’s hair-dye with a ‘touch of grey’, Harry winks at Louis obnoxiously. Louis laughs for what feels like hours, and then a bit longer because Harry loves to make Louis laugh and Louis loves to make Harry love him.

 

 

“Why won’t you see Frozen with me?” Harry confronts him one afternoon, his legs hanging off the edge of the couch and his head in Louis’ lap.

“Because I, unlike you, have a shred of masculine dignity.” Louis huffs. An hour earlier, Harry had accidentally broken his favourite tea cup and Louis is not finished pouting.

“You’re grumpy today." Harry scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. He begins bouncing his head on Louis’ lap in an indecipherable rhythm.

Louis tries to ignore him. It works for about five minutes. “I’ll buy it for you on DVD when it comes out and I’ll sing every song with you.”

Louis doesn’t have to look at him to know that his grin is shit-eating.

 

 

“Your eyes too, they’re—they’re, like, s-so beautiful,” Harry pants when Louis rides him a few nights later. Louis’ thighs are trembling and his whimpers are embarrassing but Harry is complimenting him and Louis is basking in it. “A-and, you’ve got the most beautiful thighs. I used to wank in the shower at the X-Factor dorms thinking about them. Like, a lot.”

Harry’s hips stutter when he comes, but he doesn’t stop talking because he’s in the middle of discussing Louis’ lips and Louis is in no place to stop him.

 

 

“Do you remember that time we were driving to your mum’s house, but the roads were crowded and it was raining really hard so we pulled over the motorway and made out in the passenger seat?”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Do you remember that time we found a mouse in the bathroom and I wanted to keep it but you wouldn’t let me because it might have diseases?”

“Yes, Harry, because it was a _rat_ and literally all rats carry diseases.”

“Not the domesticated ones,” Harry pauses, and Louis can already tell where this is going. “Louis?”

Louis groans, drowning out Gordon Ramsey’s shouting. “Yes, we can get a rat from the pet store. But I am _not_ cleaning its cage. Ever.”

 

 

Harry picks a guinea pig instead and names it Bean. Louis cleans its cage twice a week.

 

 

“We’re getting married someday, right?” Harry pipes one night, a tub of ice cream between them and Frozen (recently bought on DVD) playing. Bean scuttles in his cage across the room, occasionally nibbling on the bars of his cage. Louis expects it’ll only be a few weeks before Harry concludes that Bean wants to escape and insists that he is freed into the wild.

Louis pauses the movie, twisting to look at him. “What brought that on?”

“It’s just—I love you, you know? And I think that I don’t want to not love you. I want to love you. For a very long time. So, marriage?” Harry’s bottom lip is pulled between his teeth and his eyebrows are furrowed comically.

“Well, obviously we will. We’ll get married.” Louis says.

Harry appears surprised. “Really? You’d want to marry me?”

Louis wants to laugh. He couldn’t imagine a world where the finish line wasn’t Harry. The finish line was Harry years ago, and Louis is standing proud on the podium at first place.

“I’d always want to marry you. I think I’d want to marry you even if I hadn’t met you.”

Harry melts beside him, a grin spreading like butter on his face. “I love you, Lou.”

A five-letter word for a ridiculous person. The sunrise. Coffee stains and love bites. The past, the present, and the infinite future. All of it rolled up into a single being and delivered to Louis with a bow. Perhaps luck is in love with him, Louis considers. But, that would be impossible.

Nobody could ever love him like Harry did.

He’s happy to do the same.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry about that!! feel free to comment/kudos if you want tho


End file.
